


Sexual Healing

by dkwilliams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While researching a potion, Harry Potter discovers that Snape suffers from a certain personal problem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexual Healing

**Author's Note:**

> CHALLENGE: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest, Challenge # 100 – Snape's such a bastard because he's impotent. Who helps him and how?
> 
> NOTES: Thanks to Titti and Dark_One Shadowphyre for their beta work on this one.

"It's impossible."

Harry Potter looked up from the book in his lap, impatiently brushing the hair out of his eyes. He really needed to get it cut, but there'd been little time for such personal concerns since he'd left school and joined the fight against Voldemort in earnest. "It's _not_ impossible, Snape. The potion formula is right here, and the description says – "

"I know what the description says, Potter," Snape snapped. "It won't work."

He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, making the small workroom off Snape's chambers feel even smaller to Harry. Harry restrained himself from snapping at the man to _sit down_ ; Dumbledore had asked them to work together on this assignment, and if it failed, it wouldn't be Harry's fault.

Harry felt a little guilty at that thought. The Order desperately needed them to spy on Voldemort's meetings and, since Snape had been revealed as a spy and Harry was only too well known to the Death eaters, their only option was for Harry to use the animagus form he'd been working on for the past year, and for Snape to wear Harry's invisibility cloak. However, they needed to find a way for Harry to communicate with Snape while in animal form, and Harry was certain he'd found the key.

He looked back down at Potions for Animagi and frowned. "Are you certain? According to the notes, the Mentis Parilis potion has proven to be highly successful for communication with transformed wizards."

"Very likely, but it would be impossible for me to make that potion."

Harry blinked, uncertain he'd heard right. "Are you saying that the potion is too difficult?" he asked doubtfully. Granted, he wasn't a Potion master and it hadn't been his strongest subject, but it didn't look that difficult.

"Of course not," Snape said impatiently. "Even _you_ could make it. The problem is with the ingredients."

Harry ignored the sarcastic barb, as he'd managed to ignore most of Snape's comments during the past two years, and looked back down at the recipe. "White willow bark, dragon's blood, purple betony, angelica, semen from each of us…I know you have most of those in your stockroom, and as for the last," he looked up and smirked at Snape, "a beaker and some private time with Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters will provide that."

Snape stopped pacing and glared at him instead. "Mr. Potter, you may still retain what passes for an adolescent's sense of humour, but some of us who have matured – "

"Hard to prime the pump at your age, is it?" Harry said, trying to be sympathetic but unable to suppress a grin. "I'm certain there must be potions for that. Or I could obtain some stimulating reading material for you. I'm sure the twins have scads."

Snape snarled and stormed out through the back door that Harry was certain led to the Potion master's private rooms. The door didn't close completely behind him and, unable to resist the impulse to jab at his detested ally one more time, Harry sauntered over to it. Leaning against the door jam, he watched Snape pour a healthy amount of some kind of alcohol into a glass and toss it back.

"That'll just make it worse, you know," Harry said. "Muggle research studies have shown that excessive alcohol indulgence dramatically reduces the ability to perform, sexually speaking."

Snape snorted and poured himself another drink. "Mr. Potter, I assure you that my 'indulgence' could hardly make matters worse."

Harry's eyes widened and he straightened up. "Are you telling me that you're – that you can't – "

"Your command of the English language never ceases to amaze me," Snape sneered. "The word is impotent. And yes, Potter, I am."

"How long…?" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Since I was sixteen." Snape took his drink and moved to sit in one of the large armchairs in front of the fireplace.

Harry gaped at him. "Nothing?" he asked incredulously. "Not even - you know - " He made an appropriate hand gesturing. "Wanking?" Snape gave him a look that could curdle milk at a dozen paces. "I take it that's a 'no'," Harry said.

Snape slumped down in the chair, sipping his whisky, and Harry's world tilted even more. Severus Snape, _slouching_ in a chair?

"I think _I_ need a drink," he said faintly.

Snape waved his hand in the direction of the shelf where the whisky bottle sat and Harry accepted the unexpected hospitality. He sloshed a generous amount of alcohol into a glass and carried it over to the other armchair.

For a few minutes there was only silence as both men sipped their drinks and Harry considered the situation. Since discovering the pleasures his body could provide three years earlier, he'd taken every opportunity to enjoy those pleasures, solo and with willing partners. He couldn't imagine doing without for more than a couple days, much less – twenty years? His mind boggled; _no wonder Snape was such an utter bastard,_ he thought. _The man was lucky to still be sane_.

Harry cleared his throat. "How…when…was it the Cruciatus?" He'd heard stories that excessive exposure to some curses could do that, and felt an unexpected surge of sympathy towards the man sitting across from him.

"No," Snape said shortly, and drained the rest of his glass.

"What was it, then? A Potions mishap? A - um - accident with your broom?" Realizing that he sounded like a vulture picking over a corpse, he said hastily, "I don't mean to pry, and I won't tell a soul. It's just – well – I suppose it could happen to any of us." The tone of his voice made it clear that he considered death a kinder fate.

Snape gave Harry a sardonic look. "You don't really want to know, Potter."

 _Worse than he thought, then._ Harry straightened. "I can handle it."

"Even if it casts those that you hold in esteem in an unfavourable light?"

Harry's eyes met Snape's and held for a long moment, and then Harry nodded. "Yes. Even then."

Snape got up and poured another drink, then took a sip. "Very well," he said. Returning to his chair, he set his drink on the table beside it and folded his hands in his lap.

"As I said, I was sixteen and, like every other young man of that age, I had discovered the pleasures of the flesh. I had not yet shared that experience with another, having had the misfortune to place my affections on one who would never return my feelings, and yet I lived in hope." A hint of a smile, although not a pleasant one, touched his lips. "Yes, Potter, even I felt love -- once."

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, and wasn't surprised at Snape's next words.

"The Shrieking Shack incident."

Harry wet his lips. "Were you – was it Remus?"

"Lupin? No." Snape took another careful sip of his drink. "Lupin and I were Potions' partners and had become…friends of a sort. It gave me an excuse to be around - him."

"My father." Harry's throat was dry and he felt as if he was going to be ill. Snape didn't seem to hear him, his eyes focused elsewhere, on the past.

"It was impossible, of course. James Potter was everything I wasn't -- popular, good-looking, charismatic, rich. And yet, I dared to indulge the faint hope that someday, somehow…"

Snape closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. "Black came to me, talking about the way Lupin disappeared each month. The way he said it, the hints he dropped…"

"You thought Remus and my father were lovers," Harry guessed. "And you went to the shack because you were jealous and angry."

"No." Snape opened his eyes and looked straight across at Harry. "I went because Black handed me a note from your father, asking me to join them."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "He didn't!"

Snape's mouth twisted. "Of course he didn't. It was Black's doing."

"And you actually _considered_ a - a threesome with Remus and my father?"

Snape gave Harry a Look. "Potter, I was sixteen, a virgin, and, well - "

"Horny," Harry filled in, smothering a grin.

Snape pointedly ignored him. "Black had apparently noted my fascination with James and decided to put the Slytherin upstart in his place. Discourage me - permanently." Dryly, he said, "His plan worked quite well."

Frowning, Harry said, "But I don't understand why that would make you…" His voice trailed off as he imagined the scene: a boy hurrying towards an assignation with his would-be lover, heart racing, half-hard with anticipation, only to be confronted by a nightmarish beast. Snatched from the jaws of death by the very object of his desire, made to look foolish before the one he loved…

"Did he laugh?" Harry asked lowly. He'd never forgive his father if he had laughed.

"No. He was very -- kind," Snape said, his lip curling as he spit out the last word. "I lay there on the ground before him, robes torn and soiled, and he had the appalling nerve to let me down gently. Sparing my feelings, as they say, by telling me he only liked girls, and that he and Lily had an understanding. I wanted to kill him."

Harry nodded sagely. "It would have been easier if he'd said 'Bugger off, Snape'."

The words surprised a snort of laughter from Snape. "Much easier."

Harry couldn't help grinning at that, and was shocked to find himself sharing an amused moment with Snape. "Is that why you hated me? Because I looked like him?"

"No," Snape said, and the amusement on his face immediately died. "I hated you because you lived, and he didn't."

"Oh." Harry took a big swallow of his drink, wondering why he suddenly felt so…hollow inside.

"I don't anymore, you know," Snape said suddenly into the silence, and Harry looked up at him, questioningly. "Hate you, I mean."

Harry snorted. "You give a damn good impression of it."

Snape smirked at him. "Must keep up appearances, Potter. I wouldn't want anyone thinking I'd gone soft."

"Believe me, that's the last thing anyone would think about you." Harry looked down at his glass, now empty, and thought briefly about a refill. Deciding it wasn't a good idea at the moment, he set it on the table. "Do you still…?"

Snape looked at him questioningly, then realized what he was asking. "No. Not for a long time." A crooked smile touched his lips. "The heart can only grieve for so long, Potter, especially when all it had was…hopes and dreams."

For some reason, the way Snape said that, in a flat tone of voice, made Harry feel like crying. He attributed it to the alcohol. "Is that why you left the Death eaters? Because of - of how you felt about him?" Snape nodded slowly. "That's really rather - "

"If you say 'sweet', Potter, I'll hex you where you sit."

Harry grinned at that, feeling reassured by the waspish tone in Snape's voice. "I won't, then." He watched Snape pick up his glass again, toying with it, and his eyes were mesmerized by the sight of the long fingers running along the edge of the glass. Long, slender fingers, so deft, so skilful, tracing down the treasure trail…

Harry caught himself abruptly, flushing as he realized what he'd been thinking, and grasped at something to talk about. "So you - um - couldn't get a stiffy after that?"

"I was in Infirmary for a month afterward." At Harry's surprised look, Snape said, "Lupin didn't bite me, but I didn't get away unscathed. By the time I was released, the nightmares had taken a firm hold. Every time I - er - tried…" Snape's voice trailed off.

"I see," Harry said hastily, trying not to think about how weird it was to sit here, listening to Snape talk about his sexual problems. "But - um - surely you tried…with someone else…?"

Snape's lips curled unpleasantly. "Yes. I mistakenly revealed my weakness to another, and he offered to help me with my…problem. However, my second foray into sexual partnership was little better than my first attempt, although I did manage to lose my virginity. As well as any interest in sexual relations of any sort." Harry's face darkened, and Snape was surprised to find himself saying quickly, "It wasn't rape. I said 'yes'."

"It doesn't matter. Whoever it was, he should have done better by you," Harry said hotly. "He was a bloody idiot, and an arsehole as well."

Snape's lips twitched. "He was at that," he agreed.

"I just hope I get the chance to make Lucius Malfoy pay."

Snape blinked, surprised by the heat in Potter's voice. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought…no, he'd made that mistake once before, with the father, and he would be damned for a fool if he made the same one with the son.

"I am quite capable of extracting my own revenge, if it's all the same to you, Potter," he pointed out coldly.

To his surprise, the corners of Harry's mouth curved up in a hint of a smile. "Of course you are, Severus. Just don't get so caught up in _plotting_ that you forget to _act_."

Snape blinked again as he tried to absorb the fact that Harry Potter had just called him by his given name. Without his permission. He would have opened his mouth to remonstrate with the idiot boy, only something warm and soft was pressing against his lips, holding them closed. A moment later, the warmth was gone and he found himself gawking into Harry's smiling face. A face that was uncomfortably close to his own.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he demanded, in the tone that had been known to make Seventh Years tremble with fear.

Harry grinned. "It's 'Harry'. And I'm kissing you, you stupid git. Surely you got _that_ far in your earlier encounters?"

"I _know_ you're kissing me," Snape said, irritated. "What I want to know is _why_?"

"Two reasons," Harry said, settling down on Snape's lap without so much as a by-your-leave. "First, since a Potter's responsible for your predicament, it seems only fair that a Potter make things right."

Growling, Snape said, "I don't need a pity fuck, Potter."

"I'm not offering one," Harry said calmly. "And it's _Harry_."

Realizing that he was on unsteady ground, Snape grasped at another subject. "You said there were two reasons."

Harry's smile widened, and Snape had the sudden feeling that he had somehow been caught with his pants down. "The second reason I kissed you is because I'm in love with you, of course."

"Of course," Snape said sardonically. "Exactly how much Scotch did you drink, Potter?"

"I'm not drunk," Harry said firmly. "And the way I feel about you has been building for a long time. I just didn't realize it."

"And what caused this sudden revelation, if I may be so bold to inquire?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"When I realized I was angry because you'd been with someone else, and that I was jealous." Harry reached out to capture Snape's face between his hands and said, seriously, "I'm warning you now, Severus Snape; I'm very possessive about my lovers."

"I'll warn the hordes hovering outside my bedroom door," Snape said dryly.

Harry chuckled and leaned forward to brush his lips over Snape's. "Good." And then his mouth took possession of Snape's, and there was no more talk for a long time.

Snape came back to awareness to find his arms wrapped tightly around Harry's body while a pair of amazingly skilful lips were making their way along the edge of his collar. A cool draft against his throat told him that his would-be lover was quickly working on getting him out of his robes.

"Harry," he said urgently, catching the younger man's hand in his. "We - I - what if I can't…"

Harry chuckled softly and rocked slightly in Snape's lap. "I think you'll find that you _can_. Either that, or you carry your wand in an interesting place, Professor Snape." He lips sought Snape's again, but Snape avoided them.

"I've been -- stimulated before, but it never lasts long enough for me to - to finish," Snape said bleakly. He could still hear the mocking laughter, the insults flung at him the one time he'd dared to try again. "Harry, you deserve better than a broken-down old Potions master."

"You let _me_ decide what I deserve," Harry said firmly. "And don't worry about this," he said, pressing his palm lightly over the bulge tenting Snape's robes. "If it doesn't happen tonight, it'll happen someday. We have a long time ahead of us, and we can be patient, can't we?"

Dumbstruck dumb by the implications behind Harry's words, Snape just nodded. He was rewarded with another one of Harry's incredible smiles, and then Harry slid off his lap and held out his hand.

"Bed," he said firmly, tugging Snape out of the chair and towards his bedroom.

Which is how Severus Snape found himself lying on his back on his bed, naked and panting as he tried to catch his breath, with Harry Potter plastered on top of his body. He knew that an exceedingly foolish smile was on his face, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. For the first time in over twenty years, he'd achieved orgasmic release. And the fact that he owed the bliss he was feeling to Harry Potter was just one more example of the madness of the universe.

And who'd have thought that the boy - no, young man - was so bloody brilliant in bed? From the moment he'd stripped Snape of his robes and pushed him onto the bed, Harry had kept him so off-balance and aroused that he hadn't had time to think, much less remember. Not that it had taken much before he was exploding down Harry's throat, hearing Harry groan as his own release splashed over Snape's chest and belly. And then, the erotic spectacle of watching Harry lick him clean before curling up on top of him for a rest…

His prick, trapped between their two bodies, pulsed at that memory, making its reviving interest known. Harry chuckled and lifted his head to capture Snape's mouth. The taste of his own semen mixed with Harry's distinctive flavours was oddly appealing, and Snape felt his prick twitch again.

"Making up for lost time, Professor?"

Snape rolled, pinning Harry beneath him, and initiated his own breath-stealing kisses. "Don't call me that in bed, Potter. It makes me feel like a pervert, bedding one of my students."

Harry chuckled. "What, you've never fantasized about having some sweet young thing here in your bed, screaming in pleasure under you?"

 _Screams, raw throat, frustrated snarls-_ Snape's prick deflated immediately, and Snape rolled off of Harry. He lay on his back, arm over his eyes.

"Severus?" He could feel Harry bending over his, felt the gentle tugging on his arm as Harry tried to get him to look at him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I haven't had much of a fantasy life," he said harshly. "The nightmares have been more than enough."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, finally pulling Snape's arm down so he could touch his face.

Snape jerked away from the gentle stroking. "Give it up, Potter. I told you -- I'm a hopeless case, not worth your time and trouble."

"I'll be the judge of that. And in case you didn't notice, what just happened a few minutes ago was bloody brilliant!"

"A blow-job does not cure impotence," Snape sneered.

"Depends on who's giving the blow-job, I would imagine," Harry said, grinning down at him. Snape tried to ignore that grin, but his body seemed to have become hard-wired to look for it. He felt the edges of his mouth twitch in a sympathetic smile.

"Modest as always, Potter."

"I try to please," Harry said breezily. "Now, are you going to tell me what upset you just a moment ago?"

He hand trailed down Snape's body, toying with the nipples. Snape's breath caught in his throat, and he could feel the miniscule pulse of interest from his prick. "Screams," he said hoarsely. "I heard them. And snarling. Just like…then."

"Ah." Harry's hand travelled southward, teasing over the flat belly. "I'll try to remember that: no screaming or talk of screaming while in bed."

"You do know that you're being a pig-headed idiot, don't you?" Snape asked. He tried to make his voice harsh, to drive Harry away, but it was difficult to do when those talented fingers were circling his belly button. His prick pulsed again, firming up slightly.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Harry's fingers teased down Snape's prick, just for a few seconds, and then moved back up to toy with his nipples. "Did anyone ever tell you what an incredible body you have?"

Snape lifted his head and stared at Harry in patent disbelief. "You're having me on."

"No, I'm not." Harry's voice was slightly dreamy as he traced over the chest muscles and ribs, then moved up to stroke the shoulders and upper arms. "You're all straight, beautiful lines. A little too thin, maybe, but we can fix that."

"We can, can we?" Snape murmured. He shifted slightly under Harry's questing fingers, trying to encourage him to make a downward journey again.

"No hair to speak of, which is good. I can't tell you how much I dislike trying to suck on a tit through scads of hair." Harry leaned over and sucked one of the nipples into his mouth. Snape caught his breath on a moan and reached up to hold his young lover in place. Harry took his time teasing the firm nub, then moved over and did the same to the other one.

"Merlin!" Snape gasped. "I never knew -- so sensitive…"

Harry pushed down the anger that welled in him at that, and damned Lucius Malfoy again. Not that Snape had admitted it was him, in so many words, but Harry had no doubt that it was he who had wretchedly misused Severus, completing the destruction Sirius had started. And as for Sirius, Harry still didn't know how he was going to react the next time he saw his godfather, but he imagined they were going to have a long, noisy talk.

Ignoring all that for now, he concentrated on Severus and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for his own past partners. Fred and George had been wonderful teachers, fun and easy-going and eager to teach him everything. There'd been a scattering of one-night-stands and brief affairs, and all of them had given him something positive. Now he was repaying them all by giving that to Snape.

He slid down Snape's body, licking and teasing his way. Against the flat belly, he said, "I'm going to make you hard again, Sev. And then I'm going to slick you up, and take your prick so far up my arse that you'll think you've died and gone to heaven."

"Merlin," Snape breathed. He focused all his attention on what Harry was doing, ignoring the babbling voices at the back of his head. Harry wasn't going to hurt him, wanted only to give him pleasure. There were no sharp teeth and claws to fear, no mocking laughter, no pain. _No blood_ , he told himself. _No pain_.

"Severus." The voice was low and warm, not like the cold, jeering voices in his memory, and he forced his eyes open. Harry was leaning over him, his green eyes filled with concern. Snape cursed himself as he realized he'd lost it again.

"I told you - " he began, but Harry lay his fingers over Snape's lips, silencing him.

"Hush. You're thinking too much, that's your problem. So I'm going to give you something else to think about." Harry flopped over on his back and spread his arms open in invitation. "Touch me, Sev. Anywhere. Everywhere. Please."

Snape rolled up into a sitting position, intrigued at the idea of running his hands over the golden perfection of Harry's body. The skin was smooth and firm, warm under his fingers. And Harry was so responsive, moaning with pleasure as Snape's fingers traced out the skin of his face, his shoulders, his chest.

Remembering how much he'd enjoyed having his own nipples played with, he leaned over and licked at the little nubs. Harry practically came off the bed at that, and Snape chuckled around the firm flesh in his mouth. Harry laughed with him, a breathless sound that made Snape tingle with pleasure. He couldn't remember laughing in bed with the few he'd been bedded by. Laughed at, yes, but not this sharing of warmth and affection.

"So good," Harry murmured, his hands carelessly running through Snape's hair. "Feels so damn good."

Snape felt a rush of pride at the knowledge that he'd made Harry feel that way. He moved further down Harry's body until he reached his prick, standing proud in its nest of dark curls. He knew what to do, had done this a few times, to soothe the irritation of his bed partners when they realized he couldn't get hard. None of them had been as responsive as Harry, though, and he relished the way Harry writhed under him as he strove to give his lover as good as he had gotten.

So he was surprised when Harry tugged his head up to catch his attention, and he knew his face revealed his bewilderment. Harry pulled him down for a quick kiss, then murmured, "I want you to get me ready."

"But - " Snape looked down and realized that his own erection was firming up nicely. He'd been concentrating so hard on Harry's pleasure that he hadn't even noticed.

"Don't think," Harry said, pressing a bottle into Snape's hand and pulling back his own knees so that he was exposed to Snape's view. "Just feel."

Snape's fingers were shaking slightly and he spilled the lubricant on the bed as he greased them. He tentatively pressed a finger against Harry's opening and was surprised when it opened easily under his touch.

Harry grinned at his surprised look. "There are spells for making it easier, you know."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Trust a Gryffindor to have spent all his study time learning charms for sexual gratification." He added a second finger, noticing the way Harry rocked on his fingers and the blissful look on his face. Harry certainly didn't appear to be in any pain; in fact, the way he was moving indicated that he was feeling quite the opposite.

"Now," Harry said, reaching down to still Snape's hand, and the Potions master realized he'd been focused intently on his fingers disappearing into Harry's hole. Harry grabbed the lubricant from where Snape had set it on the bed. Pouring a generous handful, he slathered it on Snape's prick and slowly stroked up and down.

"Now," Harry repeated, guiding Snape's prick to his opening. Snape could feel his breath coming short, could feel himself softening, but once again Harry's voice cut through the mental fog. "Look at me, Sev. Look in my eyes." Snape obediently fastened his eyes on Harry's. "Good. Now I don't want you to look away, and I don't want you to think of anything or anybody - just the two of us and what we are doing together. Understand?"

Since Harry was dragging him down for another of those devastating kisses, Snape gave in and let him. He was surprised to feel himself sliding into the hot channel, and he couldn't suppress a moan.

"That's it, Sev," Harry said breathlessly in his ear. "Can you feel me, all around you? It feels wonderful, like we were made to fit together like this. Can you feel it?"

Snape could indeed, and he rocked his hips forward to get more of that intoxicating feel. Harry moaned and clutched him tighter, wrapping arms and legs around him, pulling him deeper inside. It felt more than wonderful; it felt bloody incredible, and Snape experimentally flexed his hips. Harry's eyes rolled up in his head and Snape chuckled again, thinking that fucked senseless was a good look on Harry Potter.

"Yes!" Harry said hoarsely. "That's it! More!"

Snape gave into the overwhelming pleasure filling him and rocked in and out of Harry's body, increasing his pace. The voices were babbling at the back of his head again, but they were saying things like "hot" and "so good" and "Harry". The voice sounded louder than he ever remembered hearing before, but he ignored it because Harry was jerking under him, shuddering through his climax, his head thrown back as he shouted his release. And the channel was so tight around him, squeezing him, making him bite Harry's shoulder as white heat poured through Snape's body and burst out of him.

He collapsed onto Harry's chest for a long, long time until a faint protest reminded him that he was probably crushing the other man. He closed his eyes and carefully pulled out, aware already that there was no blood, no marks. As Harry was wrapping around him again, pulling him down and kissing him soundly, it was enough to make him forget the rest of the world until Harry's breathless laugh made him break the kiss and give the younger wizard a resigned glare.

"What is so amusing?" he asked.

"The Potion," Harry said. "We're supposed to be wanking, you know, for the potion. Not shagging each other senseless."

"Ah," Snape said.

"Never mind," Harry said, drawing Snape down for another kiss. "We have plenty of time. We'll just consider this…practice."

That sounded perfectly fine to Snape. He settled on his back, Harry on his chest with their arms wrapped around each other, and closed his eyes. He was too tired to think about potions right now, anyways. Too tired to think about potions, or sharp teeth and claws, or blood, or jeering voices. Too tired to think about anything except the lovely man in his arms.


End file.
